The Case of Magic in Wine: A Report From Wine Explorer Diego Samper
Sometimes we need to try something different.
The unpredictable.
The thing we did not plan for.
Maybe that is why I like the world of wine.
You never fully know what you are about to open.
Every bottle requires a tiny leap of faith.
A willingness to let something unfold instead of directing it.
A readiness to be surprised.
That alone already sets wine apart from so much of modern life.
We live surrounded by things designed to remove uncertainty.
Our phones finish our thoughts.
Our maps tell us where to turn.
Our feeds tell us what we like before we even know it ourselves.
The world arrives arranged, filtered, and edited for efficiency.
Maybe that is why nostalgia clings to everything.
Not because the past was better, but because it felt closer.
We lived it with our senses instead of through a screen.
Today we move so fast that we often rely on reference points.
Scores, reviews, and ratings become shortcuts instead of simply tasting, listening, or noticing.
Wine does not let you do that.
Wine demands presence.
A few days ago, a winemaker opened a bottle for me.
From the way he held it, I could tell he had been saving it for the moment.
Something he was proud of.
Something that carried a piece of him.
But as soon as the cork came out, his face changed.
The wine was corked.
Modern cork technology has made this flaw far less common, but it still happens.
And when it does, it is unmistakable.
That faint smell of wet cardboard.
That tired, muted character hiding where vibrancy should be.
It is not harmful.
It is simply sad.
A bit like reading a good book through fogged glasses.
He immediately tried to take the bottle away, apologizing and embarrassed.
I asked to smell it.
I almost insisted.
Not because I enjoy the flaw, but because I want to learn.
I want to understand the full spectrum.
The good, the beautiful, the unusual, and the flawed.
You do not truly know a craft unless you have met its imperfections.
They teach you things that perfection never does.
That moment reminded me of something I once heard a winemaker say.
Wine is one of the last products in the world that still refuses to be standardized.
You can control your vines, your barrels, and your cellar.
But you cannot fully control nature.
You cannot control time.
You cannot control the way a bottle evolves once it leaves your hands.
And yet they make it anyway.
They put their names on it anyway.
They send it into the world hoping that one day someone will open it and feel something.
That is not mechanics.
That is meaning.
Magic exists wherever we willingly let meaning exceed mechanics.
And in wine, that magic runs deep.
A bottle is just glass and liquid until a winemaker decides to make something that might outlive him.
Until he spends years farming a slope most people will never visit.
Until he tastes, adjusts, hopes, doubts, and keeps going.
Then it arrives in your hands.
Wrapped in packaging that might not impress anyone.
A label that might not win any design award.
A bottle that might look like any other on your shelf.
But inside, there might be something that shifts your day.
Something that opens a memory.
Something that makes dinner a little warmer.
Yet that only happens if we let it.
If we lower our guard.
We often approach wine the way we approach everything now.
Cautious.
Analytical.
Almost defensive.
You drink wine like there might be a quiz later.
As if there is a correct answer waiting somewhere and you are supposed to find it.
But wine is not homework.
Wine is an experience.
Sometimes the best experiences come from the least expected places.
A tiny vineyard halfway up a mountain.
A family fermenting grapes in a barn.
A winemaker whose hands tell a story before he ever opens his mouth.
And like all magic, it only works if you let it.
As the holidays get closer, I find myself appreciating the small pauses in life.
The moments that are not planned.
Not rated.
Not measured.
The ones that arrive quietly and stay with you for reasons you only understand later.
Wine creates moments like that.
Not because it is perfect, but because it asks you to be present.
Sometimes that is enough.
Sometimes that is everything.
A tu salud,
Diego Samper
Wine Explorer
Editor’s Note: Yesterday’s launch email of our 2025 Thanksgiving Collections went out perfectly… but the landing page didn’t. We accidentally listed the same wines under every collection, but it’s fixed now—so you can finally see the real Thanksgiving line‑up. We apologize for the inconvenience. If you still need wines for your Thanksgiving or holiday feasts, you can order them here.
